


Take My Hand

by ziplockbaggy



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziplockbaggy/pseuds/ziplockbaggy
Summary: Their third date: Hugh takes Paul to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Relationships: Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	Take My Hand

Paul instantly feels the warm sun on his face as his transport completes. He squints in the sunshine, searching around him for his companion. There’s no immediate sign of him and Paul seeks out the shade under trees in the park beside him. It’s muggy today in New York City, but he still feels comfortable in his long sleeves, always preferring to hide from the sunshine if possible.

He’s missed the feeling of being on solid ground, being a civilian, travelling only to lectures. Though, he rarely gave himself the time to actually explore. That changed when he met Hugh – the man that gave him a reason to explore his surroundings and actually want to be around people; a particular Starfleet doctor, that is. The sights were pleasing, but it was Hugh’s company that truly excited Paul.

Since Hugh’s transfer to Discovery with Paul, they had spent plenty of time together in their new shared quarters. It was a pleasant shift from relying on constant video calls to now regularly physically touching the man that has become so integral to his life. Work was grueling lately and Hugh had convinced Paul that a change of scenery would do him good. Hugh had eagerly suggested going to Earth and it was surprisingly easy for Paul to agree to taking a break; it would do them both good to spend time together away from work.

Paul fiddles with the edges of his sleeves, contemplating rolling them up if Hugh takes any longer meeting up with him. This will be their third date; Paul smiles to himself, contemplating how he found himself here. A third date with the man that transferred to be with _him_. He has no idea how he’s so lucky.

“Paul!”

Hugh is quickly in Paul’s line of sight, nearly bounding toward him with an excited smile lighting up his face. Whenever that smile is directed to him, Paul can barely stop his knees from shaking. The kindest man in the entire galaxy, smiling at him. He can hardly comprehend how he deserves this.

“Paul to Earth? You with me, Stamets?” Hugh teases, placing his hand on Paul’s bicep, clearly ready to pull him along.

“Yes, _Culber_ , I’m here,” Paul responds, dragging out Hugh’s last name as if they were still on Discovery, surrounded by shipmates that weren’t necessarily privy to their relationship. “Where are we going, though?”

“The Metropolitan Museum of Art. There’s an exhibit on an abstract artist, Willem de Kooning. Abstract expressionism to be specific. He made some pretty interesting pieces, but I’m just excited to see them all in one room.” Hugh’s hand slides down Paul’s arm to grasp his hand.

It’s taking time for Paul’s brain to stop constantly thinking of his research and the constant pressure that he’s been facing. Hugh’s touch brings his mind down to Earth with him, and he takes in more of their surroundings – the lush park, tall buildings, and everyone enjoying the warm day.

“You don’t want to go to the hotel first?” Paul asks, noticing Hugh is pulling him in the museum’s direction.

“No, if you’re okay with that. I got a bit of a head start on the day and checked us in, dropped off our bags, you know, the whole drill.” Paul can feel Hugh buzzing with excitement, his energy upping Paul’s own anticipation.

“Is there an itinerary for our third date, today?” Paul jests, relaxing into Hugh’s touch, feeling less self-conscious surrounded by various strangers going their own way, no familiar eyes on them.

“Absolutely not, this is all by feel. Just be glad there’s no Kasseelian opera houses in our vicinity or I’d be dragging you with me to a show.”

“Only for you.” Paul rolls his eyes, but catches Hugh’s smirk.

They make their way towards the museum and Hugh describes all the restaurants that he wants to try, demanding that Paul help him narrow down the list. While Paul has dressed for cover from the sun, Hugh wears a tight short-sleeved shirt, his body catching Paul’s attention as he stares up and down at Hugh’s arms. Hugh has a solid plan, but Paul desperately wants to get him back to the room.

“Any of them do take out?” Paul asks.

“Oh, I’m sure, but why?”

“Just in case we get distracted and need to head back to the hotel,” Paul starts, and Hugh laughs. “Maybe, we could turn around and see this exhibit later, after, you know . . .”

Hugh clearly appreciates Paul’s desire, letting go of Paul’s hand to turn and stop in front of him.

“So, I see where your mind is at,” he responds, cupping Paul’s face and kissing him quickly. “I like that, but I have other plans for you first, Paul Stamets.” Paul attempts to move his mind out of the gutter as Hugh motions to a menu flashing in the coffee shop’s window beside them.

“First of all, we are absolutely going here later, especially when you need a pick me up after I exhaust you today,” Paul eyebrows rise up and Hugh winks in response, “but I’m really in the mood to look at those de Koonings, so pick up the pace.” Paul groans, and Hugh knows it’s good natured as he motions him along. Paul appreciates the bossiness, really wishing that they could take some detours, but Hugh’s determination alone is enough to get him to nearly jog to keep up.

* * *

Hugh’s excitement is bubbling over by the time they reach the steps leading up to the museum. He takes the steps in twos, getting far ahead of Paul, who’s trying his best to not trip over himself in his attempt to keep up. The building is ancient and beautiful, and Paul catches himself admiring the architecture around him as Hugh grabs a tablet containing maps and descriptions of all the exhibits.

“I already know where we’re going,” Hugh says, pocketing the tablet and turning to head deeper into the museum. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Hugh’s walking so fast that Paul runs to catch up, leading him with a remarkable familiarity throughout the building. They wind through a few galleries and hallways until Hugh proudly proclaims that they’ve reached their destination. Paul can hear Hugh excitedly rambling about where to start, his eyes darting around the room, looking for the right painting to start his tour. He truly cannot imagine that Hugh could win over his heart any further, up until he sees Hugh’s hand reach back.

It only takes Paul a second to register that Hugh is reaching back for _him_ , still looking forward and taking in the gallery. It’s a natural gesture, reaching for Paul; he knows he will grab his hand. Paul feels his emotions swell. The man that challenges him effortlessly and has held onto Paul despite how much Paul doesn’t feel worth the effort. Hugh’s heart is so kind and open, and he’s given it to Paul.

It’s such a simple gesture, yet Paul has never felt so wanted in his life, taking in Hugh in front of him. He has never known anybody to show this much care for him – to be so intent on sharing themselves. It’s Hugh’s constant caring, always finding a way to include those around him in his joys. Yet every day he has chosen Paul with which to share that joy. From their first video call to last night in their quarters, Hugh sitting with his cup of decaf coffee, sharing the details of his day. He could choose anyone and make a home, but he’s chosen Paul.

Paul grabs the outstretched hand and feels his breath quicken. It’s not from the running to keep up, but from the completely overwhelming joy of being loved by Hugh. And loving him back.

As Paul makes contact, Hugh looks back, his smile bright, asking, “Any place in particular you want to start?” He has no idea the revelation that Paul has just had.

Paul feels his throat tighten as he wants to shut everyone out of this gallery, turning it into their own private space, so he can hold Hugh close and tell him how much he loves him. Instead, he laughs with joy, looking into Hugh’s eyes.

“Wherever you’ll take me,” Paul responds. Hugh’s smile never wavers and he simply pulls Paul through the crowd of people, weaving their way toward the gallery’s farthest wall.

It’s covered in large paintings far above Paul’s head and he finds himself gazing up as Hugh starts talking.

“I thought you would like abstract.” Hugh’s eyes stay on the painting in front of him. The colors are bright against the muted background – honeyed yellows and earthy greens among splashes of dark reds. It’s stood out to Hugh as he shakes his head gently, smiling wistfully. “Hearing you talk about spores and the mycelial network – even though I feel truly lost at times listening to you – I thought that considering the abstract, seeing how someone can reach their own soul through what can appear to be nonsensical, would connect with you. How you are trying to make connections at levels that most of us can never comprehend.”

Paul’s heart skips a beat as he watches Hugh contemplate the painting. “Sometimes you’re the abstract painting to me. It’s a simple metaphor, I know, forgive me – it’s just wonderful to see paintings so complicated and different from each other. They’re all created by the same artist, yet difficult to comprehend how they can fit together,” Hugh pauses and chuckles, “but that’s also how I felt when we first met. I had no idea how we would fit, but the more we talked . . .” he trails off, smiling softly, “I just knew we fit well together. Like these paintings, you are so incredible,” he continues, finally turning to Paul, “and I really enjoy figuring you out, Paul Stamets.”

Paul hasn’t taken a breath in what feels like a solid minute. He nearly breaks the sudden eye contact with Hugh, feeling too seen in the moment. Paul knows his feelings, but knows his troubles on voicing them in a way that portrays the magnitude of them. Hugh is patient – he figured this out about Paul early on.

“You know you’re supposed to be looking at the paintings, right?” Hugh asks him, clearly reveling in Paul’s gaze. Paul’s heart is still steadily thrumming from Hugh’s words.

“Yeah, well you’re much better looking than them.”

Hugh rolls his eyes, smiling largely from the compliment, but finds his way to Paul’s eyes. Neither of them is looking at the paintings right now.

“Thank you for coming here with me,” Hugh says, nearly a whisper.

“I would go anywhere with you, Hugh.” It comes out quickly and more intense than Paul desires, but he’s met with a bright smile and a nearly imperceptible sigh from Hugh. His hand comes up to cup Paul’s face and Paul’s too absorbed to worry about strangers noticing him, noticing them.

“And I with you, Paul.” It’s said to only him, despite the gallery abuzz with people. Are they in anyone’s way, right now? Paul nearly distracts himself from the moment until Hugh steals a quick kiss, knowing Paul could only stand so much public affection before his cheeks would turn noticeably red. “So, let’s go.”

Paul can barely keep track of the paintings, as he’s more interested in listening to Hugh describe them. How they make him feel, how the works fit together, how the artist was feeling – his fascination begins to rub off onto Paul, a unique skill of Hugh’s. He marvels over the sculptures, the paintings, and sketches, an amazement for every piece he observes, and Paul enjoys watching Hugh interact with his surroundings more than anything else.

Paul easily finds himself moving from work to work, getting too lost in his own thoughts to contemplate his connections to any particular piece. Hugh never prods, but his own insights and openness encourage Paul. While Paul has always known his mindset is completely stuck to his own way of doing things, he has always had an open mind, albeit a stubborn one. As Hugh stops in front of a particularly colorful abstract painting, Paul stops, too.

“What are you thinking?” Hugh catches Paul in a moment, admittedly drawn in by the cool tones and wild brush strokes.

“Uhm, I don’t know,” Paul starts, not wanting to be closed off from Hugh, but he really doesn’t know what to say. Being emotional is already not his strong suit, let alone considering those emotions in relation to art.

“Do it for me?” Hugh’s head is tilted slightly, a small smile. His gentle tactic to bringing Paul out of his shell and it regularly works.

It takes Paul a moment to gather his thoughts. He feel’s Hugh’s eyes on him, but his gaze is encouraging, not forcing Paul to say anything. Looking at the painting, Paul goes with what his conscious brings him from the work in front of him.

“It reminds me of my garden – and the kiddos. The colors, that is. But this is messy, this one – there’s no clear structure or reason for why I should like it. Yet, it somehow connects?” Art has never been particularly important to Paul, but he still appreciates its influence on others. However, he can recognize how his own work and fascination are art in their own way. “I want that connection to the network – every line of code to fit, every equation in its place – all of it.” Paul doesn’t have to ask Hugh if he’s made any sense. He already knows that Hugh understands, knows the importance of Paul’s work to himself and his desire to succeed.

Hugh looks grateful and he reaches out to grab Paul’s hand again. Paul turns to look at him, knowing that Hugh recognizes the same overwhelming feeling that’s been storming Paul’s mind since they entered the gallery, his eyes shining under the lights. Hugh’s head tilts and Paul immediately recognizes the look reserved for when he’s won him over. It’s always a welcome sight and Paul would be content to stand in this gallery staring at Hugh for the rest of the day.

There’s a slight uptick in the ambient volume as a large group walks in and their attention shifts. Paul moves in closer to Hugh, noticing a new mischievous look to his companion’s expression. Paul’s brows furrow as Hugh leans into him.

“I know where I want to go next,” Hugh tells him. Paul reaches to grab the map out of Hugh’s pocket, ready to chart their path.

“Oh, no, no, Stamets.” Hugh pulls the tablet out of Paul’s reach, turning to pull Paul along with him towards the gallery’s exit. “We’re leaving.”

“Oh, are we, dear doctor?” Hugh drops off the tablet in a return container and continues to lead Paul to the museum’s exit.

“Well, there’s a particular room that I want you to see.” His voice is low, for Paul’s ears only.

“Will there be art?” Paul asks. He knows where this is going, feels his stomach jump in excitement. Hugh looks away coyly, pausing to stop by the main entrance.

“That depends on your definition of art.” Hugh looks Paul up and down, eyes hungry. “And how you plan on appreciating said art.”

“Well, you know what they say first happens on third dates,” Paul trails off, stepping close to Hugh.

“Oh, so it hasn’t counted before today?”

“What times?” Paul plays dumb and Hugh scoffs, his eyes bright with amusement. Paul once again is overwhelmed that the man in front of him has chosen a grumpy astromycologist to love. Maybe a little less grumpy now.

Hugh starts down the stairs, hand reaching back for Paul.

Letting out a breath in excitement, Paul grabs hold and doesn’t let go.

**Author's Note:**

> I recently fell in love with Discovery and, of course, Hugh and Paul. After watching Saints of Imperfection, the idea to write this wouldn't leave me! I hope you enjoyed!


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